


A Relic of What Was Lost {story is under construction}

by TheZombieCow



Category: Original Work
Genre: ...Spiritually Speaking, Alternate Universe - Aliens, Alternate Universe - Earth, Alternate Universe - Future, Character Death, Gen, Genocide, Mental Health Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Second Person, Soul-Searching, Work In Progress, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-01-07 03:12:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18401933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheZombieCow/pseuds/TheZombieCow
Summary: 'Life was perfect. Life was simple. Life was full of so much potential. But then some mercs had to go and ruin it.'When a young man's village is raided, he must run away. Armed a journal and his wits, he must learn of his mother's past, gather fellow defectors, and tear down a nation. But at what cost?Set in an alternate version of earth in the future, live through this man’s journey as he tries to not only become a relic for his people, but to usher in a new era of humanity.





	1. Warning: Story is a Work in Progress

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy all the weird names and interesting world I have built!!!  
> Tags, warning, and category will/ might change as story progresses.
> 
> This is written in second person!** (But NOT the cut+paste, write-in-an-adjective second person. So please don't click away!)
> 
> I wrote it in second person because I feel that it can give us a "stronger" look into a character while also being able to conceal aspects. It allows for self discovery, especially when it comes to the world. Also, I really didn't want to use an internal third person nor internal/external first person.
> 
>  
> 
> **Just to clarify. This is second person, NOT a "self-insert"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just an update on what I plan on doing with this story. I didn't leave! I was just working through a few kinks (and realized I released my first 3 chapters before the story was even worked out...)

[I'm typing all this on my phone]

Sorry for not posting in a while, but I've been busy with summer classes, family vacation, and figuring out where I want this story to go.

I planned on this story having two initial parts to build the character and world tobe ready for the final phase/part. My issue is that I need to make sure that my story going forward is consistent previous chapters. And because of that issue, I am re-writing my posted chapters (at least ch 1 & 3). When I have my first 5 (new) chapters ready, I will post them and delete the old ones.

Just a heads up, my story has changed (at least the timeline has) so I would recommend re-reading the new ch1 when it releases (even if it looks similar) because I've added character to my characters (haha).

[TBH, ch1 will still a little shit, but it's my shit, so I take pride as my fingers fumble around on the keyboard with nothing better to do...]

Anywho, thank you for even reading this in the first place. I will show my self the door. See you soon-ish (might be next month).

Oh, and I'm deleting ch 3 incase anyone new reads this. I moved the events in that chapter to occur later down the road.


	2. 01: Just Another Day Hunting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [April 08, 2019]  
> Updated April 14, 2019
> 
> * _italic text_ * = internal dialogue  
> Main character is 16 years old at start.
> 
> Just ignore that "alternate universe- aliens" tag for now. It will be a while.  
> See some "important words" in the end notes.

**Chapter 01: Just Another Day Hunting**  
  
  
  
  
_Life was perfect. Life was simple. Life was full of so much potential. But then some mercs had to go and ruin it._  
  
\--------------------  
  
You just came back from a successful hunt, two hares and a young buck slung over your back. You make your way over to Noni's hut, meeting her just outside her door.  
  
"Ah, I see today was a good day," she remarks, her grandmotherly smile instantly puts any worries at ease.  
  
"Just put the buck over there. I'll have Quiff take care of him later. Come. Come. You've been out all day. It's time to relax."  
  
Dutifully, you do as she says, setting the buck by Quiffs handmade rack and gambrels. The stone below tented red from generations of deer. You decide to leave your hares and hunting bow outside a well, knowing Noni would frown at you if you brought blood into her home.  
  
Entering her hut, you are greeted with a welcome scent. Citrus and vanilla waft through the air, making you hum in delight. You have always enjoyed Noni's teas, even the herbal ones that were heavy with medicinals. She moves to pour you a cup, already knowing that you'd accept the offered brew. You slowly take a seat.  
  
"It's so kind of you to do this for us. Ever since Quiff injured his knee, he hasn't been able to hunt big game. He'll be delighted to know that he won't have to barter for venison at the market today."  
  
She adds a spoon of honey into both cups and a splash of milk into yours. Your eyes follow her actions before they resume their position on her weathered face.  
  
"Oh, it's nothing," you say, "I would have brought a bear back if I had the strength. The two of you have always been so kind to my mother and me throughout the years. You have been by her side ever since she first arrived to the village. It's the least that I could do."  
  
She sits across from you and hands you your cup. You sip it slowly, giddy in its comforting flavor.  
  
Despite current appearances, Noni is not your grandmother, but that doesn't stop her from taking you and your mother under her wing. Her house has always been a safe haven ever since you could remember. You recount the many difficult nights at Noni's while your father was away trading in the city. Quiff would wind grand tales of fantasy and lore, the fire light casting shadows across his face giving him the ability to create a multitude of horrific expressions. Noni and mom, taking quietly at the table, trying hard to learn a new weaving technique or taking bets as to weather the resent newlyweds were expecting yet.  
  
"No, that deer alone is more than enough for us. You should take some meat back to your family. Doesn't your father need a new skin and your mother some needles? Take the antlers and hide, if nothing else."  
  
She  _always_  does this. Ever since your dad taught you how to hunt, you've been bringing fresh meat to Noni and every time she refuses. Most of the time, you have to hand it off to Quiff when she isn't looking, gutting the thing before she has enough time to realize it's the same one she saw just moments earlier. But you're older now, almost 17 summers old. You demand to have a little authority. But this is Noni you're bartering with.  
  
" _Please_  just take the deer Noni, this spring is worse than last year for big game. Ever since the city has been expanding its borders, the surrounding forests have become a less welcome place to the animals. If you aren't going to use it all, go to the market. I heard that Anee was looking for some dear intestine and is willing to trade for it with her famous bear jerky. Doesn't Quiff love that stuff?"  
  
She nods her head with a sigh of defeat. But you know she's not done pleading her case.  
  
"Yes, he does, but I still think you shou—"  
  
A loud booming sound erupts from somewhere outside.  
  
You tense, grab for your knife. "W- was that a gun?!"  
  
Noni drops her cup at the sound of more echoing bursts, followed by distant screams. She's moving towards the window when the door whips open revealing Quiff  
  
"Noni, move everything to the basement! You were right all along!" You notice a spot of deep red on his shirt tail, a small splattering across his cheek. He has something clutched in his fist.  
  
"Who's here?" You interrupt, hand tight around your knife. "What's happening!"  
  
"Mercenaries. From the Kararaf district. They must have been sent by the capitol."  
  
"That's impossible! We have a treaty with the capitol," you counter, "Why would they attack us?"  
  
"I don't know, but you should go home to your mother. Your father got caught in the fray. Um, y- you should have this."  
  
A pendent, the same your father wears, its leather cord snapped. Gingerly, you place it in your pocket, not wanting to face the implications.  
  
Noni cups your face, adorning your forehead with a loving kiss. "You should go, your mother needs you by her side."  
  
You hug her, giving her a light pack on her wrinkled cheek, certain it might be your last. You move onto Quiff, ignoring the blood on his cloths, needing to bear hug the best grandfather you could have ever hoped for.  
  
You grab your bag, give your final goodbyes, and run home. Your route back goes through many allies and roofs. You can see smoke billowing up from the market and a little further, behemoth vehicles planted a multitude of green. People entering their bellies by the numbers, shackles connecting them together. Your gut tightens, thoughts of the underground back market making your blood run hot.  
  
The shouts of mercs catch your attention, hollering to one another in an accent that sound harsh to your ears. You can even pick out a few untranslatable languages.  _*Hired help from overseas?!?*_  That could only mean one thing.  
  
You try to pick up the pace.  
  
\--------------------  
  
Your mom flings the door open, allowing you to barrel into the room at top speed. Closing it, she slams the barricade bar into slot along the door frame and proceed to latch the locks as you move a bookcase into place.  _*Old world technology, please don't fail now.*_  
  
Once complete, she wraps her arms around you, sobbing. You hug her tight. Scared and determined, you know you have to act fast. "Noni and Quiff are in their basement. He... he gave me dad's pendent." Your voice cracks a little as you move about the room, hands flapping, "We need to take shelter. W-we need to gather food and sup-"  
  
"I know why they're here. I thought I would be safe under the treaty," You stop, eyes affix on her. She doesn't look at you, "I never thought they'd find me."  
  
Silence. Wide eyed and slack jawed, you look dumbly at her face. She carries the same somber expression that Dr. Anee resigns herself to the fact that she can do no more but ease her patient's suffering as they slowly become one with Hara.  
  
Her eyes flit up to meet yours, bottom lip pinched between her teeth. Only know realizing that you never took the time to learn about your mother's past.  _*Do I even really know her?*_  
  
"Son, I-"  
  
A rock shatters through the front window causing both of you to dive to the glass covered ground. Buckshot follows, ripping through the room and embedding deeply into anything in its wake.  
  
Through bloody fingers, you dazedly watch your mom crawl towards a bookshelf, just barely aware of the curses she hisses out between her teeth.  
  
The accented shouts outside and the sound of passing motor engines are what gets you moving.  
  
Approaching, you can discern her whispered pleas. "Where did I put it! Oh Hara, please be here!" She's leaving small red smudges on everything she touches. "Bloody mercs! Get out before they sweep through the houses. Where  _is_  it! Dammit Hara. Gaaahhh!" She shoves the books aside.  
  
"You, get food," she orders and crawls to the next room.  
  
Even though you want to hide in a hole and wait it out, you slink to the kitchen. You place an assortment of fresh and dried food inside a cloth sack, cinching it tight, and stowing it in your bag. The knife at your belt is decent, though you wish for something heavy. You look longingly at the cleaver, but go against it. Instead, you nab a hefty water skin and move to the room your mom disappeared into.  
  
You find her in her bedroom, leaning against the bed holding a leather-bound book. No, a journal. Mom's journal. A journal she promised to give you after your coming-of-age ceremony. It looks like you'll be getting you birthday gifts early this year.  
  
"Everything you need to know is in here." She presents the journal to you. The cover is weather beaten, pages are mildewed along the edges, strange runes is scrawled along its spine.  _*Didn't she teach me her native tongue when I was younger?*_  You vaguely remember it. Only a handful of words stuck with you after your sessions. You tentatively brush your hand over the cover.  
  
"You say that as if you're staying here," concern evident in your tone.  
  
She wraps the journal in an elegant scarf. It's the one she had always held close to her heart, a remnant of her old home, or so you've been told. You slide the bundle into your bag.  
  
She then shoves a hatchet into your hands. The handle is smooth, the head slightly dull over the years. It's as if she heard your prayers in the kitchen. You look at her with astonishment and fear.  _*Why does she know I needed a heavy blade?*_  She's too absorbed with the matter at hand to notice your worried glances.  
  
"Here," a bow, "and this," a quiver of arrows. She holds them out to you, speaking over the cacophony happening outside. Eyes fixed on the items in her hands, you managed to block her out. You've never seen these weapons before, let alone in the house! The arrows are obsidian black rods adorned with ebony and ivory fletchings. The bow is pitch black with a blood red string. They look... menacing, no,  ** _deadly_**. They ooze with rage, trials of war etched into their very making. Just the sight of them makes your stomach twist, you're almost scared to touch...  _almost._  
  
You grip them with all your strength. They're the only thing that's grounding you to this moment. Her words push through to you now. Mind aware of the chaos happening outside. You take a shaky breath, try to push down the fear. But you're afraid, so very afraid.  
  
"M- Mom? What's happening?" You move to grip her hand, but she stand up, out of your reach. "Who's  _they_ —who's looking for you? Where will you go-"  
  
"This will- arghh," she flips the bed up to revival a trap door beneath, "This will take a half mile outside the village," she flings the door open, "It'll be dark by the time you reach the end. Use the dark to cover yourself."  
  
"But mom," She carelessly tosses the all your supplies in the hole, "What- what about you?!? Where-"  
  
Muffled voices. Mercs!  
  
_"Check the buildings."_  
  
_"Oi boss, dis one ain't budgin', wha' shou' we do?"_  
  
_"What do you think, imbecile? Oh, here's a thought. **BREAK IT DOWN!**_ _"_  
  
The sound of muscled flesh and metal tools hitting the barricaded door.  
  
**creeeeeek**  
  
Your mom clutches your wrist painfully. Her fierce gaze daring the door to break. The blockade will only hold for so long. You flinch with each impact.  
  
**crack**  
  
"Here. Take this flashlight." She hands over a small LED. Hauling you by your shoulder; she forces you to stand of weak knees. "You need to go." You see the hole that swallowed your bag. There are no stairs, just a three-foot drop.  
  
**CRACK**  
  
"But mom-" She hugs you tightly and you melt into her protective embrace. It feels like she's trying to pass on all her love in that one hug. It ends too quickly though.  
  
"Go now!" She shoves you into the opening, causing you to fall on your back, "Don't worry about me." Her face softens, eyes filled with paternal love and longing, tears tracking down her face. "As long as you're safe, I can die happy."  
  
**C-R-A-C-K**  
  
The blockade, it finally gave. Whoops and jeers announce the mercs' entrance as they shove their way past the wreckage.  
  
You mom's expression hardens. The word  _Katana_  comes to mind. She doesn't look down as she flings the door shut, trapping you in darkness. You hear the  _whump_  of the mattress being tossed on top. __  
  
*no... No... No No No, NO!*  
  
You can only stare in horror at the darkness where the door used to be.  _*This can't be happening!*_  The sounds that filter through the mattress tells otherwise. You are shaken from your position when you hear a gun shot, followed quickly by your mom's muffled voice, full of so much strength and venom that you almost didn't recognize her.  
  
_*Why her! What's so important about her!*_  But now's not the time for that. Honor your mother. First, you have to escape. Next, get as far away from here. Then, read that damn journal and find out what the Hara is going on!  
  
You take a deep breath, steady yourself, find your center. Your hands ease their trembling. You pick yourself up, turn on the flashlight, get your gear situated, and begin the lonely trek through the passage.  
  
\--------------------  
  
Very quickly, you realize that you have to go on hands and knees, flashlight in mouth, with your pack strapped to you stomach.  
  
It's night by the time you emerge from the passage. You feel like you've walked twelve miles, not crawled for half mile. You are caked in mud, have multiple lacerations on your hands and knees, and so fatigued that it takes all your strength to sit up.  
  
_*A lot of time was wasted in that tunnel. Hopefully the slavers have left the area. If they were after mom, they might be after me... assuming they now about me.*_  
  
Foolish hope grips your mind.  _*No!*_  Teeth grit together. Hands clenching.  
  
_*Stop it! Don't think like that! Think like a Lykos! I_ ** _AM_** _being hunted, they_ ** _DO_** _know I exist and will stop at_ ** _NOTHING_** _to catch me! Become like pray, lurk in the shadows, know the attacker, be resourceful, like dad showed me.*_  
  
You steady yourself. Mentally prepare for the even longer walk you have ahead of you.  
  
_*The mud can help cover me in darkness... Do slavers use tracking dogs? Maybe I should conceal my scent. Animal urine... scat? Can I use scat?*_  
  
You try to ignore the fragrant candle scent of  _burning village_. Its odor carried by the chilly spring breeze. You slowly get up, grunting in the wake of sore muscles, and begin to walk northward.  
  
_*I need to find water... after I leg it as far away from here.*_  
  
Figment tendrils of heat wrap themselves around your throat. The fire ever present in your mind.  
  
_*After that, I need to scout out a sturdy structure to protect me from the elements. But, no place is permanent. I must always be on the move.*_  
  
Your heart is heavy with grief, the desire to look back one last time is suffocation. Unable to will your body out of it, you glance back at the tree line blocking your homeland from view, a soft glow domes the night sky.  
  
Realization grips you. Your blood runs cold with horror as grotesque images of decayed buildings and charred bodies flash through your head. Dropping to your knees, your fingers flex open, freeing their contents onto the churned earth below. Your mind clicking through a slideshow of your real nightmares.  
  
_Quiff being whipped in line, iron shackles encasing raw wrists, Noni pleading in the background, unconcerned for her own punishment._  
  
Back hunches, chest shaking.  
  
_Dad tossed to a pack of rabid dogs while slavers test the rumor about natives being wild beasts, only to see he is just a simple old man._  
  
Head down, tears streaming.  
  
_Mom's head, served on a silver platter, roasted apple stretched around a pair of honey smoked lips..._  
  
Face buried deep in your hands, features crumple like wet paper.  
  
**"...And ready to be devoured by the clean-cut government official that dissolved the treaty."  
**   
In the wake of your words, you forgot how to breath. All the world stood still, captivated by your new reality. Then the flood gates burst open. You wail at the misery of knowing  _you are the last one_.  
  
_The last Lykos._  
  
_The last member of Native tribes._  
  
_The last ugly smudge in an pristine, technologically advances, ultra-era society._  
  
Gazing at the muddied earth, self-hatred broiling in your gut. Then you spot something that clears everything away.  
  
_**"As long as you're safe, I can die happy."**_  
  
The journal.  
  
_*Mom. Do this for mom.*_  
  
Picking yourself up, you can't help but think,  _*I'm a lone Lykos, but I still have the ways of my people. No home, no pack, only the old ways. I am my own leader now. I have to start acting like one.*_  
  
Vacantly, you imagine what the history books would say:  _This lone child must carve his own past to ensure not only his survival, but the continuation of his people._  You hope there's more written after that chapter.  
  
With solemn determination, you gather up your gear and begin walking away from your mother land.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback via comments or kudos is always appreciated!
> 
> I hope you enjoy all the weird names and interesting world I have built!  
> Tags  will be added as story progresses.
> 
>  
> 
> **Parcud's Notes:**  
>   
>  **Important words:**  
>   
>  \---Relic (n.)  
> all that is left of something
> 
> \---Mercs [slang]  
> Group of individuals who are known for their dealings in the black-market, mobs, and the government. Members consist of ex-military, enthusiasts, money despite people, victims of blackmail, and (rarely) former slaves.
> 
> \---Hara (huh-rah) (n.)  
> God/Hell; catch all for the powers that be who reign over the next life. [A/N: alternate universe means alternate religion]
> 
> \---Natives  
> It is an all encompassing group of individuals who believe in the old ways of the world in relation to resource management/ conservation, history/ heritage, and unity between its citizens, other tribes, and the Earth. They are a mixed race group.
> 
> \---Lykos (lee-kos)  
> One of, formerly, many Native tribes. This is now the last remaining.
> 
>  
> 
> **Minor words**  
>   
>  \---gambrel (deer)  
> Used to hoist deer and game above the ground to aid in cleaning, skinning, and butchering. Similar to the meat hooks in a butchery.  
>  
> 
> This is technically not my first story, but it is the first one I've written in 5 years. New to story writing but I have a strong personal history in poetry.
> 
> I will try to NOT abandon this story. I'm really excited about it, but I am also in school pursuing a STEM major. I have a lot already typed out, I just need to fill in some gaps and ensure that it flows.
> 
> I'm shit at spelling/ grammar, so please point out ANY mistakes. I will fix them (unless it's purposeful). Also, sorry in advance about the number of commas. Because of my background in poetry, I used them to create pauses in speech and therefore over use them.


	3. 02: Changing Landscape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [April 13, 2019]
> 
> Hope you like the chapter. It was... 10 pages! Damn.
> 
> My favorite part is the end. Our boy is not, shall we say, fully there (cognition) so keep that in mind.
> 
> See locations and important words in the end notes.

**Chapter 02: Changing Landscape  
**  
  
  
You walk for miles, only stopping when rest was needed. Days pass you by without heed. Mom's journal feels heavy with the potential knowledge it holds, but you keep moving, focusing solely on your even pace. By the sixth rise of the sun, you find a temporary shelter suitable for your needs. It's located in the wash of what would be a powerful river in a little over a month. Monsoon season will hit hard and quick, but you intend to be gone by then, heading towards the northern grasslands.  
  
Your first day was spent finding water, or rather, finding ways to harvest water. By the end of the day, you've found bouncing spheres of dead twigs, needle fruit, and a large open expanse of pure white dunes. The duns are warm on the surface, but as you dig your hand through, it becomes cool. Blessedly cool. You spy bits of lush vegetation, some growing in clusters across large areas, others atop large pillar-like formations of sand, a few roots sticking out the sides. You begin to notice other things, the slight movement of white creatures that would have gone unnoticed. Small bugs, giant moths, even lizards! You stare in amazement at the 'albinos.'  _*But they aren't albino. Some still have color. The lizards have blue bellies. Could they have adapted?*  
_  
A warm breeze brings you back to your senses.  _*Water.*_  The small needle fruit, though full of water, would only tide your thirst for so long.  
  
A cloud blocks the sun, causing the sand to cool significantly and for you to shiver. You suddenly remember something dad had told you.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
The two of you were retrieving water from the village well. You were too young to be of any help, but you still insisted on joining him. You managed to spill the bucket mere seconds after he handed it to you. As he laughed at you trying desperately to grab at the water before it sunk into the ground, he decided this was a good time to pass along one of his many pieces of knowledge.  
  
"Oh son, let the water go. It will go back in the ground, flow through the earth, and finally wind back into our water well."  
  
You look back up at him, wonder-filled eyes set bellow mud covered cheeks.  
  
"Yes, water runs deep," he picks you up and sets you atop his shoulders, "It will take over ten years you that water you just spilled to reach the cave again, remember to get a drink when you turn 15 and see if it's the same as you remembered." You both giggle. He lowers the bucket as you pull at his ears.  
  
"But not all water drips into wells or flows in great rivers." You move your hand to his chin, rest your head on his, you chirp, "Like what?" He begins to crank to bucket back up, body moving in circular motions. "Well, some water is found in various fruits and trees, I'll show you some when you're old enough to hunt." You think this is what a bull ride is like.  
  
"But some water sits close to the surface, the animals have showed us how. A cool white desert, about a week's journey from here, is a great example." He sets the bucket on the ground and picks up a second bucket. "If you dig a deep hole at night, water will have filled it by morning."  
  
"How?"  
  
"The sand is like a greedy sponge." He pauses. "But not all deserts will do this, and water availability also depends on nearby vegetation." He continues talking; the wise water-retrieving, bull-rider bull, encyclopedia dad that he is; and you drift off to sleep.  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
With that memory at the forefront of your mind, you start digging. It's nearly sundown and you want to be back at your home before dark. Greater activity at night means greater chances of being mauled by a bug cat. You end up with an arm deep hole. Satisfied, you trek back to your shelter.  
  
Morning greets you with a hole full of water! "Yes! It worked!" You carry a bloated water skin to camp, eased by its sloshing weight. With a secure water source, you can now focus on setting up your shelter.  
  
\----------------------  
  
Standing in its mouth, you stretch your limb up to touch the ceiling of the cave. You breath in the fresh mountain air. Opening your eyes, you are met with a huge expanse of untouched, mountain top glaciers. Morning rays reflect off the snow, ice crystals twinkle as they turn into snowmelt. Under the glaciers, vibrant greenery of all sorts adorn the mountain face. Lush forests nestle in the valley slot below. A few animals, Marmots, Deer, Bald Eagles, can be seen going about their day.  
  
Before, you could only dream of witnessing such majesty. This beauty seen only by the elder Lykos, their words expressing such grandeur that you thought them to be whimsical tall tales.  
  
"If only they could see this..."  
  
You avert your gaze, the light in them dimming. You try to think of something else. Teeth worry your lip.  
  
You relax, turning to face your newest shelter. After reaching the plains, you decided to head west. It was nearly the height of summer, and you had high hopes for this ridge. Boy, did it deliver.  
  
Having scouted the area for the past few days, you decide to read some more of mom's journal today. Sliding it out of its scarf cover, you plop down in a sunny spot by the cave opening.  
  
You begin with her letter, written partly in your dad's tongue. You haven't translated the other half yet, heart breaking every time you try. To be honest, you haven't translated any of the book for that same reason.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
Son,  
  
{strange runes}... Your father found me while he was out hunting.  
  
He took me to his village, tended to my wounds, made me feel welcome.  
  
{strange runes}... Your father connected with my pain and offered me shelter in his own home. Two years later, I had you.  
  
Son, I need you to understand that I love your father unconditionally. Love him with all my heart. In my condition, I could do nothing to fight... {strange runes}... I was afraid and your father was there for me. It was not a matter of circumstance.  
  
If you are reading this... {strange runes}... know of your existence. Keep yourself hidden... {strange runes}  
  
{strange runes}... There are savages in government and the general populous will have no sympathy for us. Your only goal is to survive.  
  
{strange runes}... had some alliances with a few... {strange runes}... After all these years, I have a feeling that they are non existent. I do not know of anyone you can turn to, though after watching you grow these past thirteen years, I know you can make it on your own.  
  
Please live, son.  
  
Love,  
Mom  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Your eyes glisten as fresh wounds are ripped open. The figment of a warm, nurturing hug envelops you as you turn the pages.  
  
You spend the day re-reading your father's survival guide, herbology, and old traditions. Recently, you've been trying to build shrines in order to put everyone's spirits at ease. You keep telling yourself it's stupid, irrational even, but you feel this is something you  _have_  to do. Tiny mounds of rock adorned with the appropriate greenery and encased in a small circle of stone. Each one is placed somewhere discreet, but a tracker would recognize them in an instant. You  _know_  this. You know this, yet do it anyways, each one lifting a tiny weight off your chest. It's one of the only times out here where your mind can leave this husk, full of anger, depression, and terror, and find peace and balance.  
  
You started by putting the children to rest, now the elderly, and soon the adults, beginning with the chief and making your way down to your parents. You still have many left to do. You plan to make Noni's and Quiff's in a few days.  
  
\----------------------  
  
The crisp autumn breeze runs through your hair as you down another apple. You check on your makeshift oven, glad that you retain so many of Noni's preservation techniques. These wild apples will help you get through the winter and sweeten up the inevitable monotonous meals. Hopefully you will come across some wild herbs while you're here.  
  
You marvel at the canyon walls. Sedimentary rock push up from below the crust. Reds, yellows, greens, and whites paint the earth in large strokes. The sunset makes them look alive as the shadows of rock features shift about. You cannot put their beauty to words.  
  
You settled here because of the, seemingly, abandoned orchard. Based upon looks, it was built pre-ultra-era, no, older!  _*From a time before the CNWC.*_  The trees, having grown wild for Hara knows how long, have remained lively and plentiful. Apples, peaches, pears, cherries, and apricots were all once farmed here, though only a variety of apples are in season right now. You spot a few animals partaking in the fruit as well. Acres of tree strewn the land, wedged deep in this sliver of a canyon. You wish you could re-visit for summer season, apricots were always your weak spot.  
  
As the sun lowers more, you ready yourself.  
  
Every dusk, something ignites within you, causing you to move, shout, jump, twirl, sing, and eventually dance. You dance and dance. Your chants echo off the canyon walls and reverberate deep in your chest.  
  
Your coming-of-age would have been this year.  _This season._  A feast would have been made. Traditionally, all the families of all the remaining native tribes would gather to celebrate their children becoming men and women of the tribes. Being the last existing tribe, the Lykos have carried on this tradition with in the town hall. You have witnessed the festivities any times, always excited and scared for when you turned eighteen, the sign of independence. Your mom would always have to console you, saying that she'd be with you every step of the way. Your father would always re-invigorate you, asking you to recount your heroism during hunting mishaps.  
  
As the last bit of sun disappears behind the rock, you cry your sorrows. You wail your indignation. You scream to Hara the slaughter of your people. You stomp the ground, feet sweeping the earth causing dust to fly in their wake.  
  
Days in the canyon are spent hunting, preparing, and building. Nights are spent with traditional dancing and wounded shouts. Your body, bruised and tired, continues this vicious cycle ceaselessly.  
  
Then one night, you stop midway. Drop to your knees. Rock genteelly, hugging yourself. The sleepless nights of questioning your own identity in this fruitful paradise has put a toll on your mind. And you laugh, just a chuckle, at the absurdity of this farce.  _*This show of tradition without structure.*  
  
_"Oh, how the Lykos have fallen! Ha ha. Wonder what the elders would say. They'd slap me silly. Say my form was wrong."  
  
Mind clearing a bit, you stop chucking, and sit up. Your words leave a bitter taste in your mouth. Rationality was lost to you and you kick yourself for letting it happen.  
  
"So what if no one's here to watch me? To guide me? To correct me? Hara take of it, this is MY ceremony. I am now a man of the tribe, my tribe!"  
  
You shout to the high heavens so that Hara can hear your words.  
  
"I will lead myself to safe haven. I will protect the knowledge of my people. I will uphold the traditions and customs. I will become the living relic of the Lykos."  
  
\----------------------  
  
Exhaling slowly, you slowly relax the aching joints of your fingers. You feel the slight rebound of the bow going slack. A few feet away, red blooms across white fur, fluid emerging from the sides of an obsidian shaft. You move to retrieve the now dead rabbit, feet crunching through a layering of snow.  
  
Over the past few months, you have been able to hone your abilities with the bow. It's a lot larger and stiffer than your old one. Not to mention you were absolutely terrified to even look at it then it was handed to you. But that has changed. You trust it, care for it, and use it almost daily.  
  
You take the hare back to your camp, now stationed in a beautiful valley. Steep mountains border you on every side, frozen waterfalls cascading down from various heights. Below is the valley, featuring a solid pond that harbors various fish. The valley would be a lush meadow come spring, deciduous and conifer tree saplings trying their best to survive in the marshy earth.  
  
You take off your gloves to skin the rabbit, spear an arrow lengthways through its body, tie a few herbs around it, then set it on your makeshift spit. You watch the fat drip as you slowly rotate the arrow.  
  
The bull-lamb skin has kept you warm so far. After your coming-of-age ceremony, you had killed it for its hide and, sadly, had to leave much of the fatty dark meat behind. You fashioned a whole outfit from the animal: Coat, pants, boots, gloves, and hat. Because you wanted a strong thread, you made it from the animal's intestine  _*Homemade catgut!*_  You were able to fashion a needle out of bone. Anee and Noni would be proud!  
  
Despite the warmth the fur provides, you feel the bone ache that a deep chill would give. They flare up most during the night or if you haven't moved in a while. You don't know what to make of it.  
  
After eating your meal and discarding all the waste away from camp for the wolves to find. Then you go to grab mom's journal. You found out a while ago that you have forgotten all of the words your mom has thought you, leaving ninety percent of the book unintelligible. So you've been studying up on the survival guide and testing yourself on Lykos traditions and customs.  
  
You hunker down for a good read, excited to re-learn and discover the ways of your people. As you read, a headache begins to form. Frustrated at this nightly occurrence to add to the aching joints, you decide to just go straight to bed, chewing the last of your mint leaves in an attempt to quell the pain behind your eyes.  
  
\----------------------  
  
You glare distrustfully at the vibrate blue flowers. White tongue filled mouths open skywards, clustered along the length of their foot tall stocks. They mock you with their numbers. Not a single hill is rid of them.  
  
Ever since you laid in a patch of them months ago, your headaches have only increased, nose is stuffed with music, and eyes have become red with irritation.  
  
Worse are the recent ailments. Muscles scream for relief, the constant feeling of being out of breath, and your skin has became a patchwork of hives. Despite the warm temperature, your joints still ache with every movement, making you take on weird postures as you shamble around. You look like a walking epidemic.  
  
_*Anee would have thrown my to the wolves. Both out of pity for me and fear of spreading infection to the rest of the tribe.*  
  
_On the days where you can think past the pain, you explore. This region offers a multitude of vegetation, all leaning on the arid side. You see humongous, white flowering spires emerging out of stiff spiny ferns, all in different stages of growth and decay. There are also thin vertical strands of needle fruit topped with small red flowers. The occasional tree can be seen at higher elevations, hidden among the red-brown rock.  
  
You have also become familiar with the local animal life. Tiny mice with the feet of rabbits. Snakes with tales full of dry beans. Birds that run rather than fly, stabbing their prey to death this their sharp beak.  
  
Having decided that it is high time you get out of here, you make your way back to camp and snuggle deep into your bull-lamb skins. You dream of where your feet will take you next by first light tomorrow.  
  
\----------------------  
  
Running. Running. Running.  
  
Green and brown. The smell of damp earth. Light spots through the green sky above. A vast blue lies beyond this canopy of life.  
  
Running. Running. Running.  
  
Foot catches. Arms stretch out. Face cushioned by soft dirt.  
  
_**GET UP!!!  
**_**_  
_** Arms and lags scramble. Fresh cuts drip red berries. Hands clutch blue petals. Sweet stench fills the air they occupied.  
  
_**TOO BRIGHT! TOO LOUD! MOVE! MOVE!  
**_**_  
_** Sound reemerged with force. The cacophony boggles the mind. The urge to get away ever present.  
  
Running. Running. Running.  
  
Lungs and throat scorched by fire. Muscles burned by the sun. Joints speared by the cold press of ice. Bones ache from overbearing load. Mind ruled by something other. The pressing need to find  _somth_ -  
  
_**HERE HERE HERE HERE HERE!!!  
**_**_  
_** Vertical blurs, green to gray. The impact clears out all air reserves. Hand rip at clothing as lungs gasp for breath. The breeze tickles bare skin.  
  
Hands regather the blue petals. Mussels work to resume standing. Feet move forward. Fleshy bottoms, poise above gray rock. Eyes gaze upon the gleaming expanse of sharp, unrelenting stone.  
  
Mind sparks to life and you gain awareness of your pitiful body.  
  
_"no-"  
__  
**SHUT UP AND M-O-V-E-!!!  
**_**_  
_** Your throat releases a broken sob as your feet march, no, RUN up the slope. The pain center of your brain pleas for your feet, your mussels, your heart, your everything to stop moving and just die on the steep incline. Eyes bleeding with fresh tears, you close them as your callused feet sink into mother nature's jagged teeth. Blood freely leaves your body. The bones of your feet bend unnaturally in order to get a good purchase. The overwhelming feeling that you might actually pass out leaves you feeling hopeful.  
  
The stabbing from beneath eventually ends. Ribboned feet slide their way across weather smoothed stone. The ground becomes cooler as time moves on. Then you feel gravity abandon you as your ankle catches on something.  
  
Eyes flash open to see nothing then a bright circle of light, then nothing again and soon a slightly smaller circle of light. Falling? Rolling? Tumbling! You a tumbling down into the dark.  
  
_*Whe-*  
__  
**SAFE. SAFE SOON. SAFE.  
**_**_  
_** A brief impact cause your hands to release their precious blue petals. Your body experiences something shockingly cold. You feel buoyant as petals whisper over your body. Water? You fear of bleeding out in the cold pool but you don't so much as make a ripple.  
  
_**READY READY READY!!!  
**_**_  
_** The voice won't shut up. Somehow, your mind manages to drift away.  
  
You dream of your mother. Old memories long forgotten. She appears in pieces, her kind face, her strong hands, her slender figure.  
  
She is in the market, looking at the herbs Gare was selling. You are by her side, hiding in the folds of her flowing dress. You overhear the haberdasher gossiping to a customer, occasionally eyeing your mom. His mouth moves in exaggerated, detailed sweeps. "Not from here," and "should have died with the rest," and "bring nothing but trouble" can be read on those lips. His eyes glare with pure hatred and disgust.  
  
The scene melts, reforming into you parents bedroom. You are hiding behind the door frame, looking in. Your mom is curled into your dad's lap, crying fat tiers, back and side on display. She was in the middle of changing, so you can see a parade of scars running down her spine as well as deep lacerations of scar tissue across her upper arms and upper legs. Your mother sobs brokenly, "Couldn't save them! Not enough warning! Reported back sooner!" Your dad clings to her tightly, head buried into her hair, whispering words of comfort and adoration. Her pain was never soothed that night. The young you wondered if it ever was.  
  
Another shift. Now at Noni's and Quiff's. Your mother is drinking a tea the color of rubies as Noni mends her ripped clothing. You crawl over to Noni and she gives you a piece of maple butter candy.  
  
"He grows quickly," she observes, shuffling your hair.  
  
"Yes," your mother replies. Voice weak and flat.  
  
Noni glances up at her. "Will he be ready when the time comes? Will you have taught him everything he needs to know?"  
  
"If the time comes," you mother interjects fearfully.  
  
" _WHEN_  the time comes," Noni corrects firmly.  
  
"But the treaty-"  
  
"Is not an absolute."  
  
You mother drops her gaze to her cup. Hands tremble. "I don't want him fighting a war for me, Noni. I've lost  _too_  much already. I just want him to live a full, happy life."  
  
"But when he becomes an adult...?"  
  
Your mother sighs and shakes her head.  
  
Noni gets up, leaving you with more candy. She grabs an old, leather journal from a bookshelf. "Here," offering it to your mom, "I was going to log my new recipes in this, but you can have it instead. Write  _everything_  you want him to know in it, Hara, write everything you  _don't_  want him to know too."  
  
Clutching the journal to her chest. "Thank you, Noni."  
  
"Any time, Vutela."  
  
The room swirls into darkness. Eyes open. Light?  _*A lantern!*_  Coming towards you. Squinting, faces emerge. Hair of unnatural colors. Small rods and circles speared through flesh. Art permanently etched into skin. The faces of city dwellers.  
  
Hands grip at you hard. The path they leave burns your skin. Blood pumps. Chest expands. Fear engulfs your mind.  ** _TOO LOUD! TOOOO LOOOUUUD!!!_**  A hand covers your mouth. The noise in your ears diminishes.  
  
_**NEED FREE! NEED FREE!!!  
**_**_  
_** Eyes roll maddeningly. Arms and feet jerk. Sharp pain shoot through your legs. Water splashes up and over you. Flower petals stick to your skin, their scent invading your nose.  
  
Some words manage to enter your ears.  
  
"... to stop that!"  
  
"... flowers? ... trail ... blood ... in here?"  
  
"Hara, ... the Native?"  
  
You feel your body being jerked up. A bright light shines in your eyes. You try to claw at the light.  
  
_**BRIGHT!!! NO!!!  
**_**_  
_** "... maybe, but ... Varex"  
  
"What!?! ... all dead!"  
  
"Well, this one's alive ... to pupate! ... water! ... bandage his feet! ... anything warm ... bundle him up!"  
  
You feel gravity's pull as your body is lifted upwards. You take that moment to twist hard out of their grasp. Falling on your side, you scramble to crawl away.  
  
"... get the others, get Parcud! ... help him."  
  
Despite your best efforts, no progress is made. The flowers begin to cloud your mind. The already dark cave takes on the hue of pitch.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback via comments or kudos is always appreciated!
> 
> Woo! What a ride! Our boy is about to meet some new people. It sounds like they're going to help him with whatever was going on.  
> A/N: Please comment what you think so far!  
> Also, please alert me to any spelling errors, my dyslexia is pretty bad, so some words slip through spell check.  
> Tags will be added as story progresses.
> 
>  
> 
> **Real world location inspiration:**  
>  \---White Sands National Monument in New Mexico, United States  
> \---North Cascades National Park in Washington, United States  
> \---Capitol Reef National Park in Utah, United States  
> \---Yosemite National Park in California, United States  
> \---Big Bend National Park in Texas, United States  
> \---Mammoth Cave National Park in Kentucky, United States
> 
>  
> 
> **Parcud's Notes:**  
>   
>  **Important words:**  
>   
>  \---Treaty of the Protected People of Earth (TPPE) slang: The treaty  
> Peace agreement between the last remaining Native tribe (Lykos) and the CNWC. This was to prevent the CNWC from encroaching on the land of the last Native tribe by constituting them as a "protected resource" (of culture/ knowledge).
> 
> \---CNWC  
> Congress of the New World's Citizens. The governing body of the capitol. {see further definition in future chapter}
> 
> \---Varax (vare-ax)  
> {see further definition in future chapter}
> 
>  
> 
> **Minor words:**  
>   
>  \---bouncing spheres of dead twigs  
> Tumbleweed
> 
> \---Needle Fruit  
> Cactus
> 
> \---Bull-Lamb  
> Bison
> 
> \---Catgut  
> "Cattlegut" String made from intestine of animal (typically sheep or goat). Can be found today in string instruments, tennis rackets, and medical sutures (historically prevalent, but now mainly used in 3rd world countries).
> 
> \---Blue flowers  
> Texas bluebonnets or Texas lupine
> 
> \---White flowering spires... spiny ferns  
> Yucca [A/N I think]
> 
> \---Needle fruit... red flowers  
> Ocotillo
> 
> \---Mice with the feet of rabbits  
> Kangaroo rat
> 
> \---Snakes with tales full of dry beans  
> Rattlesnake
> 
> \---Birds... stab prey...  
> Roadrunner


	4. Update: Story is a Work in Progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just an update on what I plan on doing with this story. I didn't leave! I was just working through a few kinks (and realized I released my first 3 chapters before the story was even worked out...)

[I'm typing all this on my phone]

Sorry for not posting in a while, but I've been busy with summer classes, family vacation, and figuring out where I want this story to go.

I planned on this story having two initial parts to build the character and world tobe ready for the final phase/part. My issue is that I need to make sure that my story going forward is consistent previous chapters. And because of that issue, I am re-writing my posted chapters (at least ch 1 & 3). When I have my first 5 (new) chapters ready, I will post them and delete the old ones.

Just a heads up, my story has changed (at least the timeline has) so I would recommend re-reading the new ch1 when it releases (even if it looks similar) because I've added character to my characters (haha).

[TBH, ch1 will still a little shit, but it's my shit, so I take pride as my fingers fumble around on the keyboard with nothing better to do...]

Anywho, thank you for even reading this in the first place. I will show my self the door. See you soon-ish (might be next month).

Oh, and I'm deleting ch 3 incase anyone new reads this. I moved the events in that chapter to occur later down the road.


End file.
